Prey
by lightbird
Summary: Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980’s. The memory sections take place in the 1960’s, during China’s Cultural Revolution. Originally written for the LJ 1theme challenge.
1. Fear

**Disclaimer:** Everything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.  
**Summary:** Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980's. The memory sections take place in the 1960's, during China's Cultural Revolution.

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**_**Fear**_

She was sure he was waiting there, to see what she was really going to do. He didn't believe her, she knew. When she told him she was going to catch a bus north, toward Canada, she could see the doubt in his eyes. Moving toward the entrance of the bus station, she peered through the glass window, being careful to keep herself hidden from sight.

There it was, his silver-grey compact car, still parked exactly where he'd let her off. He was waiting for her to walk out of the station; he'd guessed that she had no intention of boarding that bus and he was expecting her to exit the depot.

"Damn it!" Mulan angrily muttered under her breath.

Now she was stuck in the bus depot. He would definitely see her if she left through the front door, and he would follow her to see where she was going and what she was doing. She would have to throw him off her trail and make him believe that she'd actually been on that bus; which had pulled out not five minutes ago.

Hoisting the strap of her bag, which had slipped, back up onto her shoulder, she turned away from the door and crossed the large concourse toward the waiting area, stepping into the ladies' room at the far end.

As a little girl she'd spent a lot of time in bus depots and train stations. One night, in the middle of the night, her father was taken away by the police to be questioned. In those days politics were dangerous. A dissenting opinion meant risk; even the mere perception of it meant danger. Her mother and aunt came in to wake her up. She remembered her mother telling her to hurry and dress and began to pack a small bag for her in the dim light of a candle; she didn't want to turn on a light, for fear of it being seen through the window. With a hug and a kiss, her mother explained to her that Aunt Qiu-yue was going to take her to some place safe. When she asked if she and Baba were coming too, her mother merely answered that they couldn't now, but would join them soon. After that night Mulan never saw either of them again.

It wasn't easy to find a safe place in those days. Aunt Qiu-yue was clever though and she had worked out a complex journey plan for them. To go south they would first go east, then west, then north, before finally going to their intended destination. There were many who would have harmed them, but thanks to her aunt's smarts they managed to evade them all. After two months they made it to British-controlled Hong Kong.

Setting her bag down on the one dry spot on the counter she looked in the mirror and took a deep breath, then began to primp while she considered her next move and tried to calm down. Her plan had been to go straight to the bank after leaving the bus station to cash her check and then book a hotel room under a phony name. No one would track her down; and she could figure out what to do next at her leisure.

Of all the people in the world, why did she have to run into _him_, now of all the times in her life? She knew he cared about her and was concerned. But he was so damned over-protective of her; he was a pain in the ass, really. And it was likely that he would cause her problems with his interference.

Sighing in frustration she unzipped her bag and began to absently rummage through it, not actually looking for anything but needing to occupy herself with some activity. A thought occurred to her and she reached into the front pocket of her denim jeans and pulled out the (diminishing) wad of money. After a quick count she assessed that she had enough money for a local bus ride, a cheap hotel and perhaps a meager meal.

Zipping her bag back up again, she slung the strap over her shoulder and headed out of the ladies' room, her head swiveling left and right as her eyes surveyed the concourse ahead of her to make sure he hadn't come in.

She took a seat on one of the benches in the waiting area and pulled out a tattered old copy of a guidebook that she'd brought with her when she first came here a couple of years before. There was a chart of excursions by bus from here to several major cities and surrounding towns that included the distance, time it took to get to each place and the cost of the ticket. The prices were outdated no doubt, but she could ask the ticket agent for the actual cost.

Her eyes roved over the chart until she found a town that was about a half hour away and had at least one hotel. It would be better than spending the night in the bus station, if she could afford it, and she would shake the man that had become her shadow and self-proclaimed protector.

The bus left a half hour later and she was on it. As she leaned back in her seat she frowned and gazed out the window, then sighed in relief as she glimpsed the silver-grey car that remained parked in the same spot.

Shang was still watching for her to come walking out of the bus station.

**oooOooo**

Feeling safe and secure was an illusion. As a little girl Mulan had learned that lesson well.

For two months after she had to leave home at the age of nine she climbed on and off of trains and buses with her aunt, living out of the little bag in which her mother had packed the barest necessities for her. As the child of an accused 'Imperialist sympathizer' she was in a precarious position. The children and teachers would be cruel to her for that, and it was possible that the army guards would take her away for political re-education. She didn't know what that meant until much later, but at that time her aunt assured her that it was a bad thing.

In Hong Kong they would be safe. It was controlled by the British, Aunt Qiu-yue told her, not by the Chinese, and though there were police in Hong Kong, they weren't like the police at home. They wouldn't have to worry about anyone taking them away in the night or harming them.

They stayed with her friend Xiu-lan when they arrived. Aunt Qiu-yue needed to find work in order to support them before she could find an apartment, and Xiu-lan was happy to let them stay there until she could.

Only two days had passed since they'd arrived in Hong Kong when the violence started, continuing for many months after that. Shouting and screaming filled the streets as the short, sharp retort of bullets rang through the air and the police were everywhere, toting guns and taking people away in trucks. Mulan was afraid all the time then. Terror gripped her whenever she heard the loud eruptions in the street like thunder, especially if she was outside, but even when she was inside. Crowds of people were gathered all the time, carrying posters and shouting, and many of those people threw rocks. It scared her to walk outside.

Although her aunt did her best to soothe and comfort her niece, Mulan could see the fear in her eyes too.

Often she would remain crouched under the kitchen table, quiet and unseen, listening to her aunt and her friend talk about how Macau was now under the _de facto_ control of the People's Republic of China, and that Hong Kong was rumored to be next. She didn't know what _de facto_ meant and she didn't really grasp the levity of their conversation; but she could hear the alarm in their voices.

The place that was supposed to be safe had turned out to be as dangerous as where they'd come from.

As the bus drew nearer to her destination, a town that she hoped would be safe, a heavy weight like lead seemed to settle in her stomach and Mulan couldn't help but think of those times. And when she disembarked in Palo Alto, she knew why the moment she glimpsed the familiar silver-grey car waiting for her.

Shang had followed her here, though she had asked him not to. Slinging her bag higher on her shoulder she stepped forward to confront her chivalrous champion.


	2. Reunion

**Disclaimer:** Everything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.  
**Summary:** Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980's. The memory sections take place in the 1960's, during China's Cultural Revolution.

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Reunion**_

Three years ago he left, not because he wanted to but because he was presented with an opportunity that he couldn't pass up. They'd been seeing each other for a long time, though no arrangement had been made, and they cared very much for one another. Unfortunately the relationship never went anywhere. Circumstances prevented it; and even if they hadn't, she wasn't sure that he would have taken it further. Here in America she'd heard a saying that summed up a man's attitude toward marriage and women. _Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?_

Their affair would be considered scandalous if people knew about it. But they behaved discreetly and fortunately Shang was a nice man who didn't brag about his exploits; he always seemed to have more respect for women, perhaps because he had a little sister. In any event, no one seemed to know about them.

His boss offered him a big promotion at his job, which he would have been foolish to turn down, but it meant that he would be relocating overseas, to San Francisco. That was the end of their affair. Had they gotten married before that maybe things would have turned out differently. She would have come to America with him. And maybe her life would have been better now.

She remembered how much she cried when he left. Up until the day she ran into him here, she'd still missed him terribly for all that time.

When their paths crossed again on the streets of San Francisco a week before it was he that spotted her and called out her name. It scared her at first; she feared that she'd been spotted by someone who might harm her. She nearly burst into tears of relief when she beheld Li Shang's handsome face; she never thought she'd see him again. Though she'd come to the same city it was a year later and the chances of them meeting seemed slim.

Shang rushed up to her and clasped her hands warmly in his. The look he gave her said everything about the way he still felt; but it was too late and nothing could come of it. Still, she foolishly accepted his invitation to dinner that night. And then the next night. Then they spent the weekend together, the most romantic one she'd had in a very long time.

But it was a mistake, she knew. She still loved him but they just couldn't be. And now she'd led him on and set herself up for heartbreak at the same time.

As always, he wore down her defenses eventually. Maybe she wanted him to; she loved him so much still.

Right now they sat together in his car, parked several feet away from where the bus had let her off, talking quietly. Ever the honorable and chivalrous Shang, he'd immediately picked up that she was in trouble from spending just a week with her and was adamant about trying to help her.

"You told me a blatant lie. And I know that you've been holding things back from me all week. I know you very well, remember. What I don't understand is why you would tell me you were going to Canada when you weren't."

"I didn't want you to follow me. Shang, I told you to stay out of my affairs..."

"And you know I couldn't do that. It's obvious you're in trouble."

"Shang, this week is the first time we're seeing each other in three years. Things aren't what they were…I shouldn't have let things go so far this weekend…"

"I thought you enjoyed the weekend. I know I did."

"It was wonderful…but it just can't be anymore…I'm sorry…"

"You're angry with me."

"Yes, because you didn't listen to me."

"No, not about now. You're angry with me for three years ago."

"What kind of ridiculous thing is that to say?" she retorted hotly. "You got a promotion; I don't resent you for accepting it. And why should I be angry about something that happened three years ago?"

He raked a hand through his sleek dark hair and sighed distantly. "Mulan, I was very much in love with you then…I think I still am…I wanted to marry you. But then everything happened so fast…the promotion…moving here…the timing was all wrong. Now…"

"The timing is still wrong," she finished for him.

Shang gazed at her sadly. "You are angry, aren't you?"

"If I say yes will you leave me alone?"

For several minutes he stared at her steadily, arms folded across his chest, pondering. Then he shook his head. "No. No, I won't. I want to know what's going on. What are you running away from?"

"You," she retorted.

He frowned at her. "I don't believe it."

She heaved an exasperated sigh and imitated his posture, crossing her own arms across her chest.

"Mulan, won't you please tell me what's going on with you? Maybe I can help."

The secrets of her life that remained unspoken were on the tip of her tongue and a part of her longed to spill them to him. They caused her so much pain, it would be a relief to share the burden with someone. Maybe he _could_ help her. What's more, he had a big shoulder to cry on.

But throughout her life the lesson was reinforced that revealing too much was dangerous. She had to keep it inside.

Shang sighed again and shifted, reaching into his pocket. He withdrew his wallet and opened it, pulling out a card a moment later and handing it to her.

"I need to get back to San Francisco, but…if you need me, don't hesitate to call. Both my work and home phone numbers are on there."

"Thank you, Shang."

She pocketed the card and stepped out of the car, bidding him goodbye. He started the car and pulled out, waving once to her before driving off.

As she watched him go, a part of her regretted painfully that she'd had to push him away.

**oooOooo**

The décor of the hotel room she was in was rather dismal. A small vase with water and a pink carnation stood on the desk; but its cheerful color looked out of place in the otherwise drab room and it just seemed odd and tacky. Perhaps the previous tenant had received it and left it behind. Not that it really mattered; the room was cheap and she only had to be there for one night. And at least some light came into the room. She'd requested a room in the back, where there was less sun, but luckily she was on the top floor.

Still, she couldn't shake the jittery feeling and the sense of doom that pervaded her, which had worsened upon checking into this place.

"_Sign here and print here," the clerk had instructed her, pushing a log book and a pen toward her when she checked in._

_She'd signed the book and pushed it back toward him._

"_Maggie Lee," he remarked as he wrote a room number next to her printed name. "Is that short for Margaret?"_

"_Yes," she lied._

Though it was no doubt just innocent small talk, from a desk clerk that was surprisingly efficient, his appearance quite clean-cut and groomed, Mulan didn't like it. His questions about her name made her anxious.

Changing names wasn't new to her. When they left for Hong Kong so many years ago her Aunt Qiu-yue instructed her that if any guards asked for her name she was to tell them it was Chen. She was to forget the name Fa, the name of her father. Her aunt's expression was so grave and filled with fear that Mulan never questioned it for a moment. From then on she was Chen Mulan.

Even when they reached Hong Kong, where they might have been safe, she was instructed to never reveal her true name, to never speak it. She'd always preferred her real surname and deep in her heart she could never forget that she was really Fa Mulan, anymore than she could forget her mother and father. But that was a secret that only she and Aunt Qiu-yue knew. Even Shang didn't know her true name; and she'd been closer to him than any man in her life except for her father.

In America names got so mixed around and confused. Everyone wrote names backwards here, given name first, surname second. A year after Shang left, she landed her own job in San Francisco. Possessing fluency in Mandarin, Cantonese and English as well as some knowledge of the import and export business, she was hired quickly by a foreign company. Now set with employment and receiving sponsorship from the American company, she applied for and received a work visa. She adapted to American ways and accepted that here she was Mulan Chen instead of Chen Mulan.

She was accustomed to being prepared to run at all times, and a change of name meant very little to her now. Whatever she had to do to camouflage herself she did without a second thought. It was what she'd been taught; for though she and her aunt remained in Hong Kong, they never really became truly settled there. Driven by constant trepidation that the climate would change, that they would be unsafe again, Aunt Qiu-yue kept a packed bag ready in the event that they had to leave in a hurry and instructed Mulan to do the same. The bag contained a minimal amount of clothing and toiletries, and important contact names that her aunt had managed to gather. In addition, she'd already thought of new names for them in the event that they had to flee.

"What a mess I've made," she muttered sadly as she stared at her packed bag now, which she hadn't unzipped yet.

Considering her situation, her life-long training had proved infinitely helpful. She'd been able to grab her already-packed bag as she left the apartment that morning. The name she used checking in, Lee, was a common surname, like Chen, and belonged to much of the Chinese population; hopefully she wouldn't be easy to trace.

She withdrew Shang's card from her jacket pocket and stared at it. What would he think if she told him the truth? Would he shun her? The lessons that she'd been taught for nearly her entire life made her balk at the idea of revealing anything to anyone, including him.

With a sigh, she pocketed the card again and flopped back on the bed. She needed to rest.

**oooOooo**

Perception was what mattered, not truth. It was another lesson that she'd learned long ago.

Mulan lay on the bed, eyes closed, tormented by recollections of train stations and bus depots, of feeling fearful all the time as she and Aunt Qiu-yue wandered back and forth, of home; her real home.

It was cold and a wild gale blew on that first evening that her father had to leave home, this time to merely talk to the police. Her mother had recently hung up a string of chimes in the back of their house and she had an oddly vivid memory of them clanging loudly in the violent wind. Whenever she remembered that night she heard those chimes and felt the same leaden sensation in her stomach that she'd had when she watched her father walk out the door then with the two grave-looking men in uniform. When he returned two weeks later he could no longer walk without the aid of a cane. Her mother told her that there had been an unfortunate accident and he'd been injured.

But when she was a teenager she learned the truth from her aunt. Fa Zhou's 'talk' with the police was an interrogation, during which they'd tortured him. He'd been crippled from the continued blows that they inflicted on his foot with heavy bayonets. They'd sent him home eventually, only to come for him again on that fateful night that Aunt Qiu-yue fled with her.

"I was hoping that you were young enough when it happened, that maybe you wouldn't remember it so clearly." Her aunt spoke softly, mournfully.

Often times, when Mulan least expected, visions of what it must have been like for him came unbidden to her mind's eye. At those times she wished she could cry for him. But she only felt anger at the pain they'd caused him, resentment toward those men for taking him and her mother away from her; and a helpless emptiness that there'd been nothing anyone could do.

Sometimes she felt guilty that she should have escaped to safety with her aunt when her parents had been left behind to suffer.

"Your father was perceived as an enemy. It didn't matter that they had no proof. They believed he was, and so he was," Aunt Qiu-yue explained. "As his daughter you would have been perceived as 'tainted' by his ways, because his blood was in you."

Leaving her job behind now, she worried that her status in this country was in question. The company sponsored her entry into this country and now, two years later, she was quitting. It was necessary, but she couldn't tell anyone why. So where did that leave her?

Living in Chinatown she'd come to discover that there were many illegal residents, many of them women that worked in factories for low pay or worse as prostitutes for the gangs that had control over most of the business owners. These powerful groups lured teenagers with an opportunity to make a lot of money fast. Young boys in the neighborhood, who resented how their parents were forced to work so hard for so little money, saw it as an opportunity to better themselves.

It occurred to her many times that the company she worked for had associations with the leaders of those organizations. She didn't know the details and merely had suspicions; but it didn't matter. Coming from the place that she had, she knew to keep her head down and mind her own business.

Unfortunately for her, Mr. Luo, her boss, suspected that someone in the office had gone through his confidential files; he had asked her about it a week ago. And though she explained to him truthfully that she didn't know what he was talking about, nor would she ever open files that were marked 'confidential', she could see in his eye that he didn't believe her.

And so it was again that she was confronted with the problem of perception versus truth.

That same day, she ran into Li Shang during her lunch break. Talk about lousy timing.

Though she was thrilled to see him again, she had ulterior motives for agreeing to have dinner with him, and then agreeing to spend the night with him; she was afraid to be alone after her experience with Mr. Luo, wondering what would happen to her because someone thought she knew something she shouldn't.

"I deceived him," she murmured with a heavy sigh. "And what if he's in trouble now because he was seen with me?"

Her eyes popped open and she sat up with a start. She suspected that someone had been following her for at least two days, which meant that someone had seen her with Shang. There was a very good chance that maybe they were shadowing him, too, that maybe…

She shifted to the edge of the bed, toward the nightstand, and withdrew his card from her pocket again. With a glance at the clock she picked up the phone. Judging from the time he would have left work already, so she dialed his home number, praying that he was there.


	3. Fei pu

**Disclaimer:** Everything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.  
**Summary:** Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980's. The memory sections take place in the 1960's, during China's Cultural Revolution.

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Fei-pu**_

Mulan never was able to get in touch with Shang.

Feeling anxious and unable to sleep anyway, Mulan caught the earliest possible bus back to San Francisco the following morning. She wanted to get to the bank as soon as it opened to cash her check. Once she was settled somewhere, hidden and with a new name, she would contact him at work. Hopefully he would be there.

With trepidation she made her way back to Chinatown, where she could cash her check at the Bank of Hong Kong and withdraw all of the money in her account. Chinatown was the last place she should have been, but she needed to get her money. Fortunately the streets were already packed with cars and pedestrians hurrying to work, making it easy for her to blend in.

As she neared the block where her bank was located she glimpsed a familiar face. Li Shang was standing in front of the Bank of Hong Kong, talking and laughing with another man, who she recognized to be her old boss, Mr. Luo. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart sank as she watched the two men in dismay. Was Mr. Luo questioning Shang now? How did they know each other? Did someone follow Shang because they saw him with her?

She stepped into the nearby archway of one of the office buildings further down the block and pulled Shang's business card out of her jacket pocket again to read the name of his employer. She didn't recognize it, nor did she have any recollection of her own company doing business with any entities that went by the name on the card.

Pocketing it once more, she opened her bag and withdrew an Oakland A's cap that someone had bought for her. She placed it on her head and pulled it down so that the bill of the hat obscured her face somewhat. Then she stepped out onto the sidewalk again, craning her neck to see the two men. They appeared to be conversing lightly, like friends. After several more minutes, Mr. Luo walked away and Shang went into the bank.

Mulan waited until Shang exited the bank and walked away. She didn't want him to find her right now. Though she was relieved to see that he was unharmed she felt reluctant to talk to him, disturbed and shaken up by the sight of him speaking with Mr. Luo, who she feared was intent on harming her. So she waited until he was gone before walking to the corner and venturing into the bank.

Her check cashed, she left the bank and stepped inside a restaurant to grab a quick breakfast and use their bathroom. Hidden in one of the stalls, she withdrew the money from her paycheck and divided it up, putting a small amount in her pocket and stashing the rest of it in her shoes.

Out on the street again she ventured into the thick crowd, planning her next move. The sooner she got out of Chinatown, the better.

"Mulan."

The voice that called to her moments later was male and very familiar, though she didn't recognize it to be Shang's or Mr. Luo's voice. Without so much as a glance back, she continued walking, picking up her pace ever so slightly.

"Mulan, wait," the man called out again.

He caught up to her as she ducked into an alleyway. It was one of her co-workers, Fei-pu. Her eyes darted around quickly, looking to see if there were any witnesses around.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," she answered, now looking him over and attempting to gauge whether he was carrying a gun. "Why are you chasing after me?"

"Chasing you? I just called out to you and you started running. You weren't at work yesterday or this morning and you never called in. Everyone has been worried about you."

Mulan hesitated for a moment, debating whether she ought to say anything.

"Are you quitting?"

"And if I am, what are you going to do?"

"I won't do anything. But maybe you can help me. I'm on my way back into the office now. Would you meet me later?"

She was tired and feeling extremely annoyed right now. If it hadn't been for Shang following her around, she wouldn't have had to detour to Palo Alto for a day and would already be hidden with her money. But it was too late to change anything, and traveling with Aunt Qiu-yue had taught her that sometimes it was necessary to take the long way. It would do no good to remain angry or resentful.

"Help you?" she repeated impatiently.

"I think you know what I'm talking about. Would you be able to meet me at around eight o'clock tonight?"

Fei-pu seemed to be uneasy and her mind suddenly absorbed his insinuation.

"It was you," she whispered, as the realization dawned on her. "You read those files…"

"Not here," he hissed sharply, cutting her off. "We have to talk in private. Let's meet this evening. Can you do that?"

"Mr. Luo questioned me about them. He didn't believe me when I told him I had nothing to do with it. It's your fault I'm in this predicament now and I don't think I can help you anyway. Please leave me out of this."

"You're already involved, Mulan, by association," he answered softly. "I think you know that, or why else would you have run?"

She didn't answer him and he continued.

"Whether you like it or not, you are a part of this. But maybe we can help each other. Would you meet me later? If you don't like what I have to say you can walk away and I'll never bother you again."

"Alright," she answered finally after deliberating carefully. "But not in Chinatown."

"Of course not." He withdrew a pen and a small notepad from his jacket pocket. Flipping it open, he scribbled on it quickly then ripped the sheet out and handed it to her.

_Dolores Street and 18th at Mission Dolores Park_.

In the Mission District. She looked up and nodded.

"Eight o'clock," he repeated.

**oooOooo**

_A man's face loomed over her, looking down at her in a dark train compartment. There was a bright light shining in her face suddenly, the light of his flashlight. She'd been snuggled up against her aunt, her head resting against her chest and suddenly she felt the arm that was around her leave. _

"_Mama needs to get something to show the man," she whispered, gently coaxing her to sit up. _

_She brought one hand up to shield her eyes from the bright light and instinctively reached for her aunt's hand with the other. Sobs began to build up within her and, remembering the grave warning to not make a sound, she stifled them. Aunt Qiu-yue was talking to the guard with the bayonet that now stood in their compartment, handing him papers that she'd received from a man in one of the towns they'd stopped in. Mulan had been told sternly to never mention the town or that man. _

_I'm Chen Mulan. Chen Mulan, she repeated over and over inside her head, reminding herself of her new name so she wouldn't make a mistake. _

"_What's your name?" _

_The weapon seemed so close and a cry was forming in her throat. She felt her aunt's hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Swallowing hard, she barely managed to whisper an answer. _

"_Chen. Chen Mulan..."_

Mulan woke with a start and bolted upright, feeling as if she couldn't breathe and heaving as she struggled to take in quick gulps of air. Her body was damp with cold sweat. The room was dark now, signifying that evening had fallen, and she reached out to turn on the lamp that stood on the nightstand. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she sat for a moment, attempting to catch her breath. Then she stood up and stumbled to the bathroom.

Years had passed since that incident and she'd never thought of it again after that night. Nothing bad happened and after reviewing their papers and questioning them the guard left the compartment after ten minutes and never returned. But Mulan spent the rest of the ride huddled against her aunt, shaken up and holding onto her for dear life.

She turned on the cold water tap and leaned over the sink, splashing her face. After toweling herself dry, she filled one of the glasses in the bathroom and stepped back out into the room with it, flicking the bathroom light off behind her.

Shivers were still running down her spine as she took a seat on the edge of her bed again. It was just a memory of something that happened long ago; but it had left her feeling spooked and she found herself reflecting with suspicion on what she had seen that morning. What _was_ Li Shang doing with Mr. Luo?

Maybe it wasn't a coincidence that she ran into him on that day after all. It was possible that the company he worked for was associated with the same criminal organization as her former employer. What if Shang already knew about her and had 'bumped into her' on purpose? Perhaps his insistence on following her all week had nothing to do with concern after all. Worse, maybe he never went back to San Francisco last night; he might have driven away to give her a false sense of security, then backtracked and watched her check into the hotel in Palo Alto.

For all she knew he had kept an eye on the hotel in Palo Alto all night and followed her all morning; maybe he was still watching her.

Fortunately she had no time to dwell further on these musings or on the feeling of utter betrayal that it stirred up inside of her now. The clock next to the bed read seven forty-five and she had to meet Fei-pu in the park in fifteen minutes. She gulped the water down, then slipped on her shoes and threw her jacket on. Fishing in her pocket to make sure she had the key to her room with her, she grabbed her bag. As always, she'd left it unpacked; and she brought it with her now, in the event that she had to run once more and was unable to return here.

Her hotel was a couple of blocks away from the park and she made it to the meeting spot in just a few minutes. Mulan shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her body. It wasn't only the chill in the air that made her shiver, though. Mission Dolores Park was seedy and known to be the home of many drug dealers. It lived up to its reputation as the creepiest place to be after dark; even standing outside of the park she felt scared and vulnerable, praying that Fei-pu would arrive soon.

The neighborhood was comprised of Mexicans and Central Americans. Although she looked out of place to the residents, no one from outside of the community would think to look for her in this district, which made it a perfect hiding spot. It was for this reason that she decided to find a hotel here. And though the lodging was dubious it was also dirt cheap.

Fei-pu still hadn't arrived when she glanced at her watch and saw that it was already eight-thirty. Either he was running late or something had happened to him. Anxiously she waited still.

A short time later a young man that she'd never seen approached her from inside of the park. He was tall and slim, with straight black hair and dark eyes, and dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt.

"Ms. Chen?"

"Yes?" she answered hesitantly.

"From Mr. Wen."

For a moment she stared dubiously at the hand that he proffered, but then she grasped it. As they shook hands, she felt him pressing something into her hand. It was an envelope, folded in half.

"Who are you?"

"Mr. Wen gave me twenty dollars to give this to you and ask no questions."

She took a deep breath. "Where was he?"

"The other side of the park."

Mulan's brow furrowed in confusion. "But he told me to meet him at this corner."

The man shrugged then turned and walked back into the park. She considered following him in hopes that he would lead her to Fei-pu. Using her better judgment she decided to turn around and head straight back to her hotel.

Back in the relative safety of her hotel room an uneasy, ominous feeling lingered. Fei-pu had written down the meeting spot on a piece of paper; she was positive that she was waiting at the right corner. What was going on? Why did he go to a different corner and send someone else to meet her?

She sat down on the edge of the bed and unfolded the envelope. It was typical letter size and stuffed with a thick wad of folded paper. Something fell out when she unfolded the paper and upon retrieving the object from the floor she saw that it was a small key. Checking both sides of the paper that it had been wrapped in she found that there was nothing written on it except for the name and address of a bank and a number. It was a key to a safe deposit box.

Glancing at the envelope again, she noted for the first time that there was a spot of dried blood on it.

The following afternoon the newscast on television reported that a Chinese man had been found shot to death in Mission Dolores Park that morning. It was a remarkable story because the Mission District was Latin American; the police were at a loss to explain why this man would be so far from his home turf.

**oooOooo**

The bus station was in another of San Francisco's seediest neighborhoods, but it was cheap and away from Chinatown.

Mulan left the hotel where she'd been staying in the Mission District the moment she heard about Fei-pu. As another odd Chinese person in the neighborhood, it was possible that she would be pegged as being involved if anyone around was questioned by the police.

She still had in her possession the envelope that Fei-pu had passed on to her, having fished it out of the trash as soon as she heard about him. Since it had his blood on it, leaving it behind to be found would have been monumentally stupid. Now, in a hotel room close to the bus station, she dropped the envelope into an ashtray and struck a match, letting the bloody envelope burn. The room stank of cigarette smoke already and the scent of pot was everywhere in the hotel; no one would be the wiser about her burning a piece of paper.

In the morning she would go to the bank that he'd written down. Obviously the safe deposit box contained the confidential files, stolen from Mr. Luo. Hopefully there would also be some sort of note describing what Fei-pu's intentions had been in swiping them.


	4. Trust

**Disclaimer:** Everything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.  
**Summary:** Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980's. The memory sections take place in the 1960's, during China's Cultural Revolution.

_**

* * *

Trust**_

Mulan made sure she was alone in the back room of the bank before withdrawing the key and opening the safety deposit box with the number that Fei-pu had written. As she expected, the box contained papers, copies of the files.

Without reading anything yet she swept up every piece of paper in the box and shoved it into her bag, pushing it all the way down to the bottom. She would read everything later, in a private place. Right now she wanted to leave the bank before someone else showed up with another copy of the key to the box.

The Civic Center was a couple of stops away on the train and she headed into the station to catch the next one headed there. Someone had left that day's newspaper on the seat beside her and she picked it up to read it. There was a small article on page five about the 'as yet unidentified Chinese man' found in Mission Dolores Park. The police were speculating that it was a drug-related homicide, given the location of the body, but they hadn't drawn any definite conclusions yet and were still investigating. So far the gun that was used to kill Fei-pu hadn't been retrieved and the police hadn't located any witnesses yet either.

When the train reached the Civic Center stop she got off. The main branch of the public library was nearby and she headed toward it, hoping it would be open on a Saturday. It would be quiet there and she could find a private alcove in which to read.

Unfortunately the library was closed and she aimlessly wandered around the empty streets of the financial district, her bag slung over her shoulder. She'd already checked out of the hotel by the bus station. One night amidst the stench was enough to make her sick; now she needed to find somewhere else to go.

She hopped a cable car at Market Street and Powell and got out at the marina, then caught a bus to Golden Gate Park. That seemed as good a place as any to hang out in, and it was a nice day. A small food shop was open across from where she got off the bus, and she went in and bought a bottle of juice and a sandwich. Sitting down under a tree in the park and leaning against the trunk, she unwrapped the paper containing the sandwich and took a bite. The moment she was eating her body suddenly let her know how famished she was; and she realized she hadn't eaten in over twelve hours. She found herself wolfing down the sandwich, stopping only to open the bottle of juice and gulp some of the liquid down.

"You're going to choke on that."

Mulan almost _did_ choke at the sound of the voice. She began to cough and he took a seat beside her and began to slap her on the back.

"Stop," she managed to croak out between dry coughs.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine." When she recovered and the hacking coughs subsided she whirled on him angrily. "Why are you following me around, Shang?"

"I wasn't following you. I'm here with my friends. Maybe you're following me," he quipped lightly.

She merely frowned.

His smiled faded. "I didn't think you were coming back to town. And then I saw you…"

"Well, I had to come back." She bit back the impulse to accusingly inform him that he'd screwed up her plans by following her around.

"Oh."

They were silent for several minutes. Then he pointed to another tree several yards away. A couple of young men around their age were lounging beneath it, drinking beers.

"My friends are over there. Would you like to come over and have a beer?"

"No thanks."

"Are you alright? You look exhausted," he remarked quietly. "Like you've been running for days. What are you running away from?"

"Nothing. Mind your own business. Ever since we ran into each other again you're being too pushy and nosy."

"Mulan." He shifted and came around to kneel in front of her, then reached out and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "You can't lie to me. I'm worried. What are you so scared of?"

She looked into his face. There was so much concern and caring in his expression and she wanted so much to believe that he was a friend, not a foe. But she couldn't get the image of him talking to Mr. Luo out of her brain.

Mulan shook her head slowly and laughed wryly.

"My shadow."

His gaze lowered and rested on her bag. "I assume you haven't returned to your apartment since you left for Palo Alto."

"I don't like it there."

"Where are you staying then?"

She didn't answer.

"Mulan, you've always been so secretive," he murmured. "For as long as I've known you. But you have to trust someone sometime. I know you're in some kind of trouble. Please trust me."

"Is that why we didn't work out three years ago? Because you find me secretive?"

His jaw went slack as he stared at her, clearly caught off guard.

"Things were difficult then, the timing was bad," he managed to respond finally. "I already told you that, and I meant it. And don't change the subject."

She reached up and stroked his face, unable to help herself. He sighed in resignation and brought one hand up to cover her hand, pressing it against his lips and kissing her fingers tenderly. A sweet pain shot through her legs as she felt his warm breath and lips on her flesh.

"What are you doing later?"

"Looking for a place to stay."

"Have dinner with me. We can talk, and you can stay at my place for the night."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

He smiled and stroked her cheek gently. "I promise you'll be infinitely safer in my home than in some seedy hotel."

"Seedy? How do you know I wouldn't be staying in a four-star hotel?"

Shang laughed. "Just a hunch."

Averting her eyes, she drew away from him skittishly and turned to look out in the distance. He knew that she was staying in seedy hotels because he'd seen her going in, no doubt; which meant that he'd been watching her, at least one of the days.

"Where do you want to meet?" she asked. "Other than Chinatown."

"Well, you can join my friends and me, and then later you and I can go our own way."

Mulan hesitated for a moment, pondering.

"I'm going to look for a place to stay for the night first," she told him.

"Okay. I'll pick you up somewhere."

"No, it's better if I just meet you at the restaurant later. Is seven o'clock good?"

"Fine. I'll make reservations for dinner at seven. Do you like French food?"

"Sure."

"Let's meet at L'Olivier then. It's on Davis Court, in the Financial District. Near Jackson."

"Alright. See you at seven."

**oooOooo**

Saying no to Shang would have been the wiser thing to do. She didn't completely trust him, though she didn't sense any blatant attempt at deception on his part and he seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being as always. But she did sense that he was telling the truth when he told her he still loved her; and she felt the same way about him. She wanted to be with him.

As a precaution, she decided to go back to the bus station and leave her bag in one of the lockers there. For all she knew, he was good at putting up a front. What if she stayed at his house and he looked in the bag while she was asleep? He'd find the papers from Fei-pu.

She would need to be dressed nicely for dinner. Rather than change in the filthy bathroom at the bus depot however, she made her way to the Union Square area first. There was a Saks Fifth Avenue there and she went in to use their ladies' room.

Fortunately she'd washed her hair earlier so she didn't need to bother with that again. She washed her face and her body with paper towels, soap and water, then went into one of the stalls to change. L'Olivier sounded like it would be an elegant restaurant. Jeans and sneakers would not be appropriate attire. In her haste to get out of her apartment with the barest necessities she'd left most of her clothes behind, including her business clothes. Her nice silk cheongsam and matching shoes were the one exception; but she would have to iron the cheongsam. Or buy a new dress for the night.

Sighing with impatience and frustration she left the bathroom and headed for the dress department.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered as she browsed through racks of lovely dresses that were too expensive for her to afford. "I should have told him I couldn't make it."

By the time she got to the restaurant she would probably be too tired to enjoy anything.

Luckily she ended up speaking to a very nice saleswoman who sympathized with her predicament and arranged to get her dress pressed for her in the store. Mulan thanked her, then went to one of the fitting rooms and changed into the dress and her high-heeled shoes.

Her money was stuffed inside her socks. She pulled out a small purse and transferred all of her cash into it, along with her passport, the safe deposit key and a small case with a toothbrush.

As the sun was beginning to set she went straight to the bus station and put her large bag, with the confidential papers and all her other possessions, into a locker. Slipping the key into her purse after locking it up, she left the bus depot and went to the restaurant where she was to meet Shang.

Just as she'd predicted, she was already exhausted and worn out.

"I'm going to be a bundle of fun tonight," she muttered.

Now having second and third thoughts about meeting him, Mulan felt anxious and disturbed. The fact that she'd gone through so much trouble to stow her bag somewhere away from him, thinking that he might look in it if she brought it to his home, showed that deep down she didn't trust him anymore than she trusted anybody else.

**oooOooo**

He was still asleep when Mulan quietly got out of bed in the morning, unable to remember anything that had happened after they left the restaurant and got into his car. She was dressed only in her black bra and panties.

What memory she had of the night before was wonderful; the dinner was delicious, Shang looked as handsome as ever, and the ambience of the restaurant was extremely romantic. She wasn't hung over and she didn't remember feeling drunk. In fact she'd only had one glass of wine. Had she merely fallen asleep in the car? Whatever had happened, Shang brought her home, slipped off her dress and shoes, and put her into his bed.

Ending up in Shang's home wasn't a bad thing though. There was something on her mind and now that she was here, maybe she could answer her own questions.

Pulling one of the extra blankets around her body to keep warm she crept over to his closet where his suits and other clothes were hanging and checked his pockets, searching for a gun. Unsuccessful at locating one, she flicked on the light in the closet and checked thoroughly for a holster of some sort.

Nothing. She turned the light off and closed the door behind her, frowning as her eye swept the room. There was a dresser with drawers and she tiptoed over to quietly check inside.

After her search turned up nothing still she softly eased herself back into bed and tugged the rest of the covers up over her body. Maybe she was being paranoid and had misjudged him. It was possible that Shang just happened to know Mr. Luo. It was a small world and Chinatown was smaller.

"What were you looking for?"

Her heart thudded in her chest as she started from the sound of his voice. For a moment she lay still, not answering. Then she slowly turned her head to look at him. Shang's eyes were still closed and he'd sounded half asleep when he asked the question. Maybe he was dreaming and had asked the question within the context of his dream.

But he opened his eyes after a minute when she still didn't respond.

"Mulan. What were you looking for?" he asked again.

"I'm sorry I was a crummy date," she finally spoke up, still attempting to hedge his question.

He leaned over and kissed her. "You were a lovely date," he laughed. "But I knew how tired you were. I could see it when I met you in the park. So, when you fell asleep in the car I didn't disturb you. I brought you home, carried you inside and tucked you into bed."

"Thanks."

"And now, I'm not letting you change the subject. What were you looking for?"

"A gun," she sighed.

"What?"

"I was looking to see if you have a gun here."

Shang looked utterly dumbfounded. "A gun? Why would you think I own a gun?"

"Forget it. It was stupid."

He raised himself up on an elbow and gazed at her with an amused expression. "Were you afraid I was going to shoot you?"

"Yes." She tried to keep it light, a joke, but her voice was tight. His eyebrow quirked up and without warning she burst into tears.

"Mulan. I can't believe it. How could you think such a thing?"

"You told me that I'm secretive," she began to speak through her tears. "But what about you? I don't know what your intentions are, but you've been following me around this whole time. Maybe you know more than you're telling about me and my life."

"My intentions are to look out for you, Mulan, and to make sure that you're safe. That's all."

His arms wound around her and he pulled her close to him, beginning to stroke her hair tenderly.

"We were going to talk last night, but I knew you needed to rest. Let's talk now."

"You first," she answered.

She wanted him to reveal himself before she talked about herself.


	5. Understanding

**Disclaimer:** Everything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.  
**Summary:** Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980's. The memory sections take place in the 1960's, during China's Cultural Revolution.

_**

* * *

Understanding**_

They lay side by side under the covers, facing each other. Shang reached out and began to massage her shoulder gently.

"Mulan, there's something I've been wondering. You said you came to San Francisco two years ago. Why didn't you contact me when you got here?"

"When you left Hong Kong, we didn't stay in touch. It seemed to me…" She stopped and took a deep breath. "I didn't want it to look like I was chasing you."

"I wouldn't have thought that."

"It would have felt like it to me. And other people would have thought it. Besides, you didn't seem to want to stay in touch. You never wrote to me once you came here."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "You don't need to apologize. I know things happened quickly for you. And you had a right to feel…or not feel…the way you did."

"There always seemed to be a wall between us…you've always had secrets. I figured you had your reasons for keeping certain things private and I respected them. But…you're right. I think it made me a little gun shy about taking things to the next step. And then my mother was pressuring me, too. About getting married before I went overseas. She already had someone picked out for me…and I didn't want that. I just needed to get away from everything for a little while, to figure out what I did want."

At a loss as to how to answer him she remained quiet.

"You were so on edge all last week." Shang steered the subject back to the previous topic now. "I knew you were in trouble. My friend is a police officer; when I mentioned the name of your company…he knew it. He wouldn't say anything about it, but…I could tell something was up. And I asked him to keep an eye on you."

Mulan stiffened.

_A cop? He'd had a cop watching her?_

The thought filled her with terror and she felt as if she was going to suffocate. What if he'd seen her with Fei-pu? Now that he was dead, what if she was linked to him and suspected of being the one to kill him? She was in a foreign country, in violation of her work visa, and with no rights that a citizen would be entitled to. And she'd still seen Shang speaking with Mr. Luo. What if they were all trying to frame her? It certainly would be another way to get her out of the way.

"His name is Yong Lee, but he adopted an American name. Everyone calls him John now. He only checked up on you to make sure you were safe."

"You were talking to my boss!" she finally blurted out, sitting up. He mirrored her movement. "I saw you, Shang!"

"What?" He appeared to be genuinely confused.

Choked sobs began to make their way out of her throat and Shang shifted closer, placing gentle hands on her shoulders.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Really, I don't."

"My boss. Mr. Luo. I saw you with him in front of the Bank of Hong Kong the other morning."

A look of recognition crossed his features. "Mr. Luo? He used to be my neighbor until I moved in here…why should you care that I was talking to him?"

"Your neighbor?"

"Yes."

"Do you work with him at all?"

"No. But we run into each other every once in awhile. Chinatown is a small place, you know that. So we greet each other and talk. He asks me about my new place, I ask him about his wife and kids. There's nothing secret about our conversations, Mulan. We're just old neighbors. Why are you afraid of him?"

"It doesn't matter. He's not my boss anymore anyway, since I quit. So you won't need to have your friend check up on me anymore."

"Why did you quit your job?"

Mulan took another deep breath and closed her eyes, uttering a quick silent prayer that what she was about to do was the right choice. She was about to open up a door, which meant trusting him enough to let him in on some parts of her life that up to now had remained secret.

Her eyes opened and she focused on him. "Some people think that I looked at something that I shouldn't have. But I didn't. Someone else did. But those people think that I did and didn't believe me when I told them I didn't."

Shang blinked and shook his head, looking bewildered. "What?"

"I can't say anymore about it."

"You haven't said anything about it," he exclaimed in frustration.

"Now everything is so much more complicated," she continued, ignoring his remark. "Why did you have to go and sick your cop friend on me?"

"Because I care about you and I wanted to make sure you were okay. I swear, Mulan, I never had any other intention but to help you. And all he did was check up on which hotels you went to and he made sure that you were safe. I would think you'd feel protected."

"By the police?" she scoffed bitterly. "The police are corrupt and cruel."

"Some of them are."

"Almost all of them."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked incredulously.

"That's how it is where I come from."

"We come from the same place, Mulan."

She hesitated again, debating. What could it hurt to tell him? Somehow she sensed that whatever he was up to, he didn't have the power to send her back to China. And he hadn't harmed her. He certainly could have the night before if that was his intention; she was dead to the world then.

"No, we don't."

He stared at her, appearing stunned. "What?"

"I'm not originally from Hong Kong. I arrived there when I was nine. Just in time for the riots."

"Oh. I had no idea..."

She shrugged. "How could you? I never told you."

"What happened?"

"Nothing bad happened to me. It's just…we were scared. Always scared. And even after we reached Hong Kong we never stopped being scared. There was always the chance that something bad _could_ happen. And now the British are giving Hong Kong back to the People's Republic of China."

"Not until nineteen ninety-seven," he corrected her quietly.

"And I don't want to be there when that happens. I was hoping I could stay here and bring my aunt over. That won't happen now that I left my job. I was here on a work visa."

Shang gently smoothed down her hair, then he put an arm around her and pulled her close. "Tell me what happened."

That morning, for the first time in her life, Mulan told another person the story of her parents and the Red Guard, and of her flight to Hong Kong with Aunt Qiu-yue.

**oooOooo**

Only a few minutes before she'd finally ceased crying. Shang sat behind her, his legs straddling her on each side, massaging her shoulders and her neck. Mulan sighed as she felt some of the tension lift and her muscles relax.

"I understand why you've kept this to yourself for so long, Mulan. But I'm glad you told me." He kissed the back of her head tenderly. "And I'm sorry I messed up your original plan. I thought you were in trouble and I really was trying to help."

"Nothing can be done about it now. I know you were worried about me."

"Very. I wish you would have told me the truth in the first place."

"For so long I've been taught that I can't trust anyone. I'm not sure I know how to," she remarked sadly. Indeed, though she'd revealed much to him just now, she was still afraid. A part of her worried that he might turn on her, even though she could see the love and caring in his eyes when he gazed at her.

"What about your job, Mulan? You said someone thinks you looked at something you shouldn't have."

"Yes."

"But why did you leave? Wouldn't that make you look guilty now?"

"I was afraid they would harm me."

"Are you sure of that? I mean, maybe…you grew up under such duress. Is it possible that you're reacting because of your past experiences and seeing danger where there isn't any?"

"Maybe. But I don't think so. Any way you look at it, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't," she sighed.

"What did you do with your things?"

"I checked my bag into a locker at the bus station."

"I'll drive you down there later to pick it up. And then…you're welcome to stay with me for as long as you want."

"I'm afraid they might be watching you now, too."

"Then you might as well stay with me. They can watch us both at the same time. And so can my friend."

Although her back was to him he must have sensed her frown.

"He's a good guy, Mulan," he reassured her.

She groaned in disappointment when his hands ceased massaging her.

"Sorry, I'm hungry," he chuckled. "I'm getting up to make us breakfast."

His eyes roved over her body as she climbed out of bed. "You can wear one of my shirts since all you have here is that lovely dress. Not that I'd mind if you came to breakfast in your underwear, but I don't want you to be cold."

Mulan punched his upper arm playfully and followed him to the closet where he retrieved a large T-shirt for her to wear.

Fifteen minutes later she sat at the kitchen table while Shang scrambled up eggs and made toast and coffee for them.

"We're having an American breakfast."

He'd already brought the Sunday paper in and set it on the table. She grabbed it and began to thumb through the pages, anxiously looking to see if there was another story about the 'unidentified Chinese man' in Mission Dolores Park. Once again she found a small article in the local news section of the paper. Although his name hadn't been released they did reveal the name of the company that he had worked for. In addition, the article went on to say that another employee in the same company was missing. Again no name was released; but she knew they meant her.

**oooOooo**

When they returned home after driving to the bus station to retrieve Mulan's bag, a car was parked in front of Shang's house.

"That's my friend John Lee's car."

"Oh, no…"

"He's probably just stopping by to say hello to me. Don't panic."

John Lee got out of the car and greeted them at the stoop of Shang's house, explaining that he was there on business. Mulan felt her face blanch and her stomach knotted up. Shang squeezed her hand reassuringly and invited his friend into the house.

As they sat in the living room together, John introduced himself to Mulan and explained that he had some questions for her. He pulled out a pad and pen from his jacket pocket and prepared to write her answers down.

"Ms. Chen, I believe you know a Mr. Wen Fei-pu?"

"Yes, we used to work for the same company."

"Used to?"

Mulan swallowed nervously. "I quit. This past Tuesday was my last day."

"Mr. Wen was found shot to death in Mission Dolores Park on Friday morning."

She didn't answer, having learned a long time ago to only offer information to the police when asked a question.

"Perhaps you read about it in the paper?" he prodded.

"I did read an article about a Chinese man found there."

"What was your relationship? Were you friends?"

"No, just co-workers."

"You also withdrew all of your money from your account at the Bank of Hong Kong, and you haven't been in your apartment since Tuesday. Are you planning to go somewhere?"

"I'm sorry," Shang interrupted. "Forgive me for interrupting, but is she suspected of a crime? Does she need to call an attorney?"

"I know she didn't shoot Mr. Wen, Li Shang. You were worried, and as soon as you told me where she worked, so was I. I kept an eye on her like you asked, and now I'm her alibi. Another officer and I took turns watching her all day Thursday. If she'd shot him, one of us would have seen her." He turned to Mulan. "I did see you with him early that morning. And then you went to a hotel in the Mission District. At around eight o'clock you went to the park. You were going to meet him?"

"Yes, but he never showed up."

"Another man came over to you, though. A Mexican."

She nodded. "He didn't tell me his name. All he said was that Mr. Wen told him to pass on a message to me that he couldn't make it. So I went back to my hotel room."

"Why were you meeting him?"

"When I ran into him on Thursday morning he told me that he needed to talk to me. But he wouldn't tell me what it was about and he wanted to meet somewhere out of Chinatown."

"So you don't know what he wanted to talk to you about."

"No."

"What have you been running away from?"

Mulan squirmed uncomfortably and glanced at Shang. This was all his fault. If he hadn't asked Officer Lee to keep an eye on her, no one would have a clue who she was. And she might have been long gone now.

"Ms. Chen, I'm a part of the department's Asian Gang Task Force. For a long time now we've been investigating the company that you were working for. Mr. Luo is smart and he covers his tracks. As much as we suspect that his outfit is involved in organized crime we have no proof. But the fact that you ran tells me that you must know something."

"I don't," she insisted.

"What was your job when you were there?"

"I kept inventory of all incoming and outgoing merchandise, I liaised with our clients and with sales representatives, stuff like that."

Officer Lee glanced at Shang, then withdrew a card from his pocket and handed it to her. "If you can think of anything that might help us further, give me a call. Where can I reach you if I need to ask you anything else?"

"She'll be staying here," Shang answered for her.

"Very good. Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Chen."

Mulan watched as Shang accompanied him to the front door. The two men exchanged quiet words that she couldn't hear, then Officer Lee left and Shang rejoined her on the couch.

He put his arms around her and drew her close. "Don't look so worried, Mulan."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Listen to me. You said that Mr. Luo suspects that you know something…"

"He does. And the fact that he only _thinks_ it has got me in trouble."

"Then, you might as well tell the police the truth."

"I told him what I know."

"You know more than you're telling, Mulan. He knows it and so do I. Look, you might as well come clean. They'll protect you. And maybe they'll finally get this guy and his people off the street. You'll be safe."

With a bitter laugh she shook her head.

"I'll never be safe."


	6. A Friend

**Disclaimer:** Everything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.  
**Summary:** Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980's. The memory sections take place in the 1960's, during China's Cultural Revolution.

_**

* * *

A Friend**_

It was Monday and Shang had to leave for work at seven o'clock in the morning. He leaned over the bed, where she still lay half-asleep, and tenderly pecked her on the cheek. It was very much like old times, in more ways than one.

As he left the room and she listened to the sound of the front door opening and closing, a familiar ache tugged at her heart. Even back in Hong Kong she had wanted more from him. She really did want to get married. But he didn't. Although he acted as if he were her husband in certain ways, something always held him back; her secretiveness, as she discovered over the weekend.

Wide awake now, she flipped over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling somberly. She was beginning to consider that staying with Shang was the worst possible choice she could have made. In addition, she felt apprehensive about sharing as much as she had with him, especially when he'd brought his policeman friend in on everything.

"Which reminds me," she spoke aloud. "He must be outside, watching the house."

Mulan brooded, tossing and turning on the bed, unable to fall back asleep. She still hadn't read the papers that she'd retrieved from the safe deposit box since she'd been unable to find a private place to read all weekend.

She got out of bed and pulled on the shirt that Shang had loaned her the day before. Even though she had her things now, she loved the way his shirt smelled and wanted to keep wearing it.

Her bag was stowed in a corner in the closet, zipped up and locked with a small combination lock. She turned the light on and knelt on the floor, unlocking and opening the bag. Paranoid that somehow Officer Lee might watch her through the window she grabbed the bag and scooted down as she headed toward the bathroom to take a shower. After towel drying her hair and dressing quickly, she grabbed her bag and left the house. Officer Lee's car wasn't in sight; perhaps his partner had taken over the surveillance.

Well, she was just going to the library anyway. If he wanted to follow her there, she didn't care. First she would make a copy of the papers in her bag and stow one away. Then she would read the other copy in a private spot in the library. If one of the officers came in and took it she would still have the other copy to read. And if necessary and depending on what was in them, she would send a copy to the newspapers.

**oooOooo**

Tucked away in a closed off, private cubby in the library Mulan spread the papers on the desk in front of her and began to rifle through pages filled with schedules of numbers, with columns indicating income and expenses and other finance-related things. It occurred to her that these were accounting records. Unfortunately Fei-pu knew more about the numbers than she did, but never had a chance to explain them. Already possessed with suspicions about Mr. Luo, she deduced that these numbers were associated with something illegal, perhaps evidence of a second set of books that weren't shown to their auditors or the IRS; particularly since the police were involved and Fei-pu had been shot, no doubt over the theft of these papers.

That was another thing that she considered in this moment. Fei-pu's murder had been very, very sloppy. A professional hit-man would have killed him instantly, with just one bullet. But Fei-pu managed to live long enough after he was shot to stagger into the park, bleeding on an envelope that he then passed to the Mexican, and he had enough breath to convey the message that a woman was waiting on the other side of the park for him.

_What was that all about?_

The police would know that this wasn't the work of a pro; if she could figure it out, they certainly would. At least she hoped so.

She sensed a shadow behind her and shuffled the papers together, then reached for one of the books that she'd pulled off the shelf as a prop. Quickly opening it, she began to read the page that she'd landed on, going through the motion so it would appear convincing to whoever might be watching. After a minute she raised her head and glanced around her. No one was there.

Thumbing through the rest of the pages of ledgers, she stopped on the very last page, which was a handwritten note on a piece of lined paper. It was a draft cover letter to the newspapers, enclosing copies of the file and summarizing the contents. At the end was a list of newspapers in San Francisco and the surrounding area. Her suspicion about a second set of books was confirmed.

So that was Fei-pu's idea, too; to send this to the papers in the event that corrupt police got hold of it. She folded the letter up and put it in her pocket. The letter was only a sample, in his handwriting; she would need to type it up. After counting and re-counting the number of newspapers on his list, she made extra copies of the file, one for each publication on the list and one to send to her aunt. In the event that anything happened to her, she wanted Aunt Qiu-yue to know why.

Shoving everything into her bag and locking it up, she left the library, glancing to the right and left for signs of someone watching her as she exited. The area was busy today, since it was a weekday. She made it her business to walk into the thick of the lunch crowd along Market Street and headed toward the post office to buy stamps and envelopes. The sooner she mailed these out, the better.

Now she just had to find a place to type up the letters. She didn't want to risk writing them; someone might recognize her handwriting. These were to be sent anonymously.

**oooOooo**

"Shang, what made you decide to move out of Chinatown?" she asked him as they ate dinner together that night.

He shrugged. "I wanted a larger place. And I always liked this neighborhood."

"It's one of the nicer neighborhoods in the city."

"That's why I moved here."

"Is it very much more expensive?"

"Not as much as I expected. It's worth it to me anyway. Look at the view I have." With a sweep of his arm he gestured to the window as he said that.

"The view is gorgeous," she agreed.

They both fell silent again, eating the noodle and dumpling soup he'd brought home.

"You never told me what you did today," he reminded her as he set his empty bowl aside.

She bit back the impulse to ask him why his cop friend didn't tell him where she went and what she did.

"I went to the library." When one was required to lie it was always a good idea to tell part of the truth. Mixing truth with lies made the lie more believable.

"The library? For what?"

Mulan looked at him quizzically. "To read. What do you think?"

"Oh. What did you read?"

"One of the bestsellers from last year. _Jailbird_."

"Kurt Vonnegut."

"Yes."

"Did you finish it?"

"No. I'll go back tomorrow and finish it. I know where I left off."

"Why didn't you check it out? They let you borrow books for at least a week."

She shrugged. "I didn't want to."

Looking away from him, she concentrated on eating her soup. He was watching her, but she ignored him for now. When she set her bowl aside, he reached over and placed his hand over hers.

"What?" she asked, looking up.

"I wish I could reassure you."

Sadness filled her chest and she knew she ought to suggest that staying in his house was a bad idea, that she should find a hotel. But her body ached for his touch and she needed to be with him. She couldn't leave.

**oooOooo**

_She used to wear her hair in braids, sometimes a single thick plait in back and other times in two braids, one on each side of her head. Every morning her mother would comb her long hair out and weave it for her. Mulan wore her braids with pride._

_Five men came one day and ransacked their house, taking their finest clothing, other expensive things that her parents owned as well as many of her finely crafted dolls and toys. Instead of keeping those things, which they might have made money off of, they merely threw everything into a pile in the yard in back of the house and set it on fire._

_One of the men seized her by her long braid and she screamed. He took a knife, sliced off the braid and tossed it into the fire. She cried as she watched the flames lick and consume the plait along with the rest of their things. The man shouted at her, something about an Imperialist hairstyle. The flames spread toward her and she screamed._

Mulan woke abruptly from the throes of her nightmare, becoming aware that she was moaning out loud and Shang was hovering above her, a gentle hand on her shoulder. She began to cry despite his attempts to soothe her and spent the next fifteen minutes huddled against him with her face buried in his chest. He remained silent as he held her and stroked her hair.

Now they lay curled together like two spoons, his arms wrapped securely around her, and they talked quietly.

She sighed. "I've always assumed that my parents were killed. But Aunt Qiu-yue told me that people like my father…wealthy, intellectual…were sent to work in the fields out in the country, to live among the farmers and peasants. And their families, too. He and my mother may have been sent away…to different places, of course. Families were always split up."

"You said your father was a professor?"

"Yes. He was the son of a general and inherited land and wealth from his father. Instead of a military career my father pursued an academic career. He was a double threat."

"Mm. What was your nightmare about?"

"One day men came into our house and took our belongings. It was about that. They piled everything up out in the yard and set it on fire. They took my favorite dolls and toys and burned those too. And one of them cut my braid off and threw that into the fire. They didn't care that I was crying. My aunt says that many of the people who lived nearby watched. She said they had less than us and cheered when they saw our things being taken away and destroyed. But she thought that maybe it was a show for those guards, to make them think they sympathized…so they wouldn't be targeted next. Everyone had to be careful of appearances. I was very young when it happened. I haven't thought about that day since…I don't know why I suddenly had a dream about it."

He kissed the back of her shoulder tenderly. "I'm sorry that happened to you. And I apologize for the way I've behaved. Mulan, I can't begin to describe how happy I was to see you again that day…"

"And I to see you," she murmured.

Shang squeezed her. "And I was just worried because you looked so scared. I'm afraid I set all of this into motion…I never meant to do that. If I had known about your past…I'm sorry."

"I know."

"But…you're being protected, by professionals. And I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Mulan sighed and closed her eyes, settling back against his body.

"I'm alright now. You have to get up early. I should let you get to sleep."

"It's no problem. Besides, you need sleep too. Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine. Goodnight, Shang."

He kissed her shoulder tenderly again, then tightened his embrace once more. "Everything will be alright, Mulan."

She smiled lightly, feeling warm and secure in his arms. Just the way he said her name in that moment comforted her and she felt a little bit safer.


	7. Edge

**Disclaimer:** Everything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.  
**Summary:** Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980's. The memory sections take place in the 1960's, during China's Cultural Revolution.

_**

* * *

Edge**_

Curled up comfortably in Shang's arms, she'd slept without waking again until the late morning. He was long gone and she hadn't even been aware of him leaving, or even disentangling himself from her and slipping out from under the covers. She stretched lazily, feeling well-rested, and glanced at the clock on the night table.

_Ten thirty!_

Alarmed, Mulan sat up quickly and leaped out of bed, cursing profusely. Over two hours that might have been spent looking for a place to type up her letters were gone. She usually despised rising early; but she needed that extra time. Those packages needed to get out to the various papers quickly. As she dressed, she considered the possibility of writing the letters with her left hand instead of her right, in the event that she couldn't get access to a typewriter. Her handwriting would be completely unrecognizable if she didn't write with her dominant hand, but it very likely would be illegible, too.

She wandered around Shang's apartment looking for pen and paper. Frightened, anxious and exhausted she'd hardly given it a second glance since the first day he brought her there. Feeling a little more settled she walked through each of the rooms with more observant eyes now, really paying attention to the layout and décor. It was a large one-bedroom apartment with a sizeable eat-in kitchen, a spacious living room and an additional room which he used as a study.

With awe she took in everything; the décor, his possessions, the subtle ways in which his traits and all the things she loved about him were expressed in them. Expensive and luxurious but not ostentatious; his taste was impeccable and elegant, and yet the rooms were decidedly masculine in appearance and feeling. She ran her hands with wonderment over the finely crafted furniture, some of which were antiques, gazed at the lovely artwork on the walls and perused the titles of the books on his shelf. He'd always been partial to poetry, she recalled, particularly the poets of the Tang Dynasty, and he'd brought his favorite editions to America with him.

_They would have burned these books if he lived in mainland China_, she thought suddenly and melancholy descended on her momentarily. In fact, if she hadn't had the good luck to successfully flee to Hong Kong, she might never have had the opportunity to read such lovely poetry and prose.

The study was the last room that she examined, and as her eye fell on the typewriter that sat upon the desk there, she grinned broadly at her own daftness. Of course he had a typewriter! Even better, it was an electric one. And she thought she was going to have to wander around San Francisco looking for a service!

Sighing contentedly, she made her way to the kitchen and brewed herself some tea. Now she could remain in the relative safety of Shang's apartment until she was ready to go out to mail the packages.

Ten minutes later she was perched comfortably at Shang's desk, her bag sitting on the floor beside the chair, the cup of tea lying on the desk beside her hand. Inserting a sheet of paper into the typewriter, she began to type up the contents of Fei-pu's note. There were ten newspapers on his list, and she typed up ten copies of the letter, addressed to each of the different publications. Then she handwrote a note in Chinese to Aunt Qiu-yue.

By one o'clock that afternoon the eleven envelopes were ready to be mailed. She had two more copies of the file in her bag, a copy for herself in the event that she needed it for leverage and another for the police, in the event that she decided to hand it over to them. Shang was a good man, and she wanted to believe that he wouldn't associate with any man who wasn't; but anyone could be fooled by an artful pretender, even the best judge of character. She wanted to think things over a little longer before she turned anything over to Officer John Lee.

Officer Lee's car was visible when she poked her head out the door.

_Dammit._

She didn't want him following her to the post office. The mailing would have to wait a little longer.

The doorbell rang five minutes after she'd retreated back inside and dashed into the bedroom, tossing her bag into the closet. Mulan froze for a moment, wondering what Officer Lee could possibly want. Wasn't he merely surveying her?

He pressed the button again and she hurried to the door, her steps slowing as she approached.

"Yes?" she called through the door.

"It's Officer Lee, Ms. Chen. I'd like to speak with you some more."

Mulan sighed and cautiously unlocked the door, pulling it open just a crack. He wasn't in uniform and she felt cold in the pit of her stomach as panic began to set in.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Chen. My intention wasn't to alarm you. I would just like to ask you some other questions. This has been a long investigation and we've been frustrated at every turn. Any bit of information you might have that would shed light on this case would be greatly appreciated."

She acquiesced after another moment's hesitation and opened the door wider to admit him.

**oooOooo**

"The unit you work for is the Asian Gang Task Force, you said?" Mulan inquired, setting a glass of water on the coffee table before him. She perched herself on the couch, adjacent to the plush antique chair in which he sat.

"That's right. You lived in Chinatown, but perhaps no one there discusses the Golden Dragon Massacre anymore. Everyone who was around for that would like to forget it."

"I've never heard of it."

"Ah, yes. You came to the United States after it happened."

"I see that you've thoroughly researched my life," she commented pithily.

"Only to be sure that your activities weren't clandestine," he replied. "After all, your actions were quite secretive and you were clearly running from something."

She lifted her own glass and sipped from it, refusing to look at him. Officer Lee knew that she'd withdrawn her money from the bank, knew when she entered the country, probably knew every move that she'd made in the past week. It made her intensely uncomfortable and she bristled with anger once more, resolving to later take Shang's head off for bringing this friend of his into her life.

"I'm on your side, Ms. Chen."

"So you said. What about this Golden Dragon Massacre?"

"Wah Ching and the Joe Boys were the two large Chinatown gangs involved. The Joe Boys attempted to carry out a massacre at a restaurant called the Golden Dragon, in revenge over the desecration of the graves of some Joe Boys members by members of Wah Ching. The assassination attempt was botched. Five people were killed, including two tourists, and eleven people were wounded. That was back in nineteen seventy seven. After this incident, the police department formed the Gang Task Force."

Officer Lee set his glass back down and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.

"I'm not sure how this happened, but somehow you've been asking all of the questions. It's my turn." He withdrew his pad and pen. "Were you on your way somewhere just before I came in?"

"Yes, but I can go when you're finished. I wasn't ready to leave yet; I just wanted to check the temperature."

"What were you running from when Li Shang first asked me to keep an eye on you?"

Mulan looked at him askance as she answered. "I was afraid that I was being followed. Which it turns out was true, but not by who I thought."

"Who did you think it was?"

"I never imagined it was the police. I thought it was Mr. Luo or someone who worked for him."

"Why?"

"He accused me of reading a confidential file of his."

"Did you?"

"No, I know better than that. I mind my own business. I'm not so stupid to look at my boss's confidential files."

"And you have no idea what kind of files they were?"

She raised her chin and peered into his face impudently. "Don't you? If you suspect that Mr. Luo is involved in shady dealings, you must have an idea of what they might be."

"It's possible that Mr. Wen read them though, am I right?" he queried, ignoring her words.

"Yes. It seems like a plausible explanation as to why he ended up dead."

"Still, you ran, which tells me you had some suspicions about Mr. Luo's business practices being less than above board."

"I suspected, but I had no proof. And I never asked him."

"You're here on a work visa," he stated.

Mulan fixed a piercing gaze on him at his sudden change in tactics, waiting for him to mention the fact that she was in violation of it. But he didn't. It was enough for him to merely suggest it and they both knew that.

"When I was here last time…you weren't completely truthful with me…"

"I never lied to you," she replied guardedly.

"No, you didn't tell any outright lies. But you didn't tell me everything that you know either. Withholding information…"

"I guess I'd better ask this again. Do I need an attorney present?"

"Technically you don't have the right to an attorney. You're not a citizen, nor a permanent resident here, and you're in violation of your work visa now."

Now he said it.

"Oh, I get it," she answered softly, her lips drawn tightly into a thin line. He intended to blackmail her.

"An immigration lawyer perhaps. If you're willing to cooperate, maybe I can help you."

A rough, bitter laugh escaped her lips and she shook her head slowly. Li Shang lived in a dream world if he believed that most policemen weren't corrupt in some way, and that included his good friend.

They both started at the sound of the shifting bolt in the lock on the front door. There was a light bang as the door was pushed open. Perfect timing.

"Mulan?" he called from the small foyer.

"In here, Shang. And not just me. You have a friend here, too."

Officer Lee appeared somewhat uncomfortable momentarily, but he regained his composure quickly as Shang stepped into the living room. He stopped when he saw his friend sitting there.

"John! I didn't expect to see you here…"

"I had some additional questions for Ms. Chen."

"What are you doing home, Shang? Did you leave work early today?"

"After the bad night you had I was worried about you. I decided to take a late lunch and come home to see how you're doing."

"Fine," she answered, beginning to smile in spite of the unpleasant experience she'd just been having with Officer Lee. "Can I make something for you?"

"Thank you, I wasn't expecting…"

"I'm happy to do it," she cut him off, rising quickly, eager to be in a different room from Officer Lee. "Would you like a sandwich? I saw bread and cold cuts in the kitchen."

"That's fine."

She nodded and hurried off to the kitchen. Retrieving the bread from the pantry and the cold cuts from the refrigerator, she worked quietly so she could listen to the two men as they spoke softly.

"She's quite a smart young woman, Li Shang."

"And a very frightened and vulnerable young woman. She's been through some terrible ordeals. I don't want to see her go through anymore."

Mulan finished making his sandwich and brought it out on a plate from the cabinet, along with a glass of water for him.

"Here you go."

He gave her an affectionate smile as she handed his lunch to him then took her seat on the couch beside him.

"Officer Lee was suggesting that if I help him, he'll help me. Otherwise I'll be deported, I guess, since I'm in violation of my work visa. Unless, of course, they arrest me, in which case I won't have a right to legal representation nor a fair trial here. Does America have an extradition policy with Hong Kong? I would assume so since it's a British colony..."

"What?" Shang exclaimed in bewilderment, sandwich poised midway between his plate and his mouth.

"I have nothing to do with immigration, Ms. Chen," Officer Lee answered smoothly. "However, if you help us, we'd be willing to look into arranging something for you should you want to stay here."

Mulan's brows drew together in a frown and she pressed her lips together tightly for a moment. Deciding that she would speak to Shang in private after Officer Lee had gone and give him more explicit details of the prior conversation, she answered, sticking to her original conviction.

"What do you want to know that I haven't already told you?"

"Did Mr. Wen ever mention what the files were about?"

"I'm not certain that he read them. Chances are he did, since he was killed. But he never had time to speak with me about any of the details. I've already explained that."

"You paid a visit to a different bank on Saturday morning. And it wasn't a bank in which you had an account."

Her blood seemed to freeze but she attempted to keep her face expressionless. "No, I don't have an account there."

"But Mr. Wen had a safety deposit box there."

"Yes," she answered, her mind working quickly to come up with an explanation that she could give. She didn't want to let on that she had the files yet, which meant that now she would have to mix truth and lies once more.

"He gave you a key to it then?"

She nodded. "He gave it to the Mexican in Mission Dolores Park who passed it to me. But he didn't say anything other than that Fei-pu couldn't make it."

"Well, how did you know which box it was?"

"The key was wrapped in a piece of paper with the bank's address and a box number."

"So you went to open it. What was in there?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" he repeated, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Someone else must have had a key. If there was anything in there, it was taken before I got to it."

Officer Lee sighed. "Ms. Chen, I believe that you're lying, although I can't for the life of me figure out why. You're clearly not working with Mr. Luo, or his…associates. Perhaps, if you have them, you're hoping to blackmail him with these papers? If that's the case, I strongly advise against it. It would be playing with fire. These men are ruthless and very dangerous."

"Are you going to arrest me?"

"If you're withholding evidence, I could arrest you for obstructing justice. At this point I don't have definitive proof of that, just my suspicions, so no. Of course, I could return with a warrant to search your belongings. And this entire apartment. Give it some thought."

He stood up and replaced his pad and pen in his pocket.

"Thank you again for your time and for the refreshment, Ms. Chen. Li Shang, I'll see you soon."


	8. Leaving

**Disclaimer:** Everything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.  
**Summary:** Alternate universe suspense story set in the 20th century, specifically the early 1980's. The memory sections take place in the 1960's, during China's Cultural Revolution.

_**

* * *

Leaving**_

"Mulan, he wasn't blackmailing you." Shang tried to keep his voice gentle as he answered her report of her conversation with Officer Lee before his arrival, but she could hear his frustration seeping through. "He was just playing hard ball…it's what the police do when they know you're not being truthful, or withholding information. It's to motivate people…"

"By intimidating them."

"Yes, but…" he trailed off and sighed in exasperation. "I don't know how to make you understand, to convince you that things are different here…"

"Does Officer Lee know where I'm really from?" she asked suddenly.

"Not unless you told him."

"I didn't…"

He reached out and took her hand. "Neither did I. And I won't. But, Mulan, why is it that you didn't mention the key to a safe deposit box before? And did you really find nothing there?"

When she didn't answer right away, he sighed.

"I'll take that as my answer. So now you're lying to the police."

Shang reached up and began to rub his temples, appearing weary.

"Look, I have to get back to work soon. Mulan, please…please don't do anything stupid. If you have those papers you should give them to the police. What purpose could holding onto them serve?"

"I wouldn't hold onto them if I had them, and I certainly wouldn't use them to blackmail Mr. Luo. If you think for a moment that I would want anything to do with him, you're wrong. I'd send those files to the newspapers, so that the police wouldn't be able to just make them…or me…disappear. Because they'd have to contend with several newspapers knowing the facts, too."

His hands dropped and Shang gaped at her slack-jawed for several minutes. Mulan found herself squirming nervously under the intensity of his gaze.

"Mulan," he spoke up finally. He seemed to be having difficulty mustering his voice. "You _do_ have them. Listen to me…if you send them to the newspapers, the investigation will become public. Do you have any idea what that will do to the case? It will give Mr. Luo and his associates warning, and a chance to destroy or otherwise get rid of any evidence that might implicate them. That would include you. And the police wouldn't be able to do a thing…"

Mulan's entire frame had stiffened. "_You_ seem to know an awful lot about it," she interrupted him. "Are you sure there isn't something _you're_ not telling me?"

"I'm not hiding anything from you. I promise."

She sighed now.

"May I…I mean, would you mind if I looked at those papers?" he asked gently.

"No," she muttered after a minute, deciding that it couldn't hurt to show him at this point. "I'll get them for you. Although, I don't understand why you would even want to have anything to do with them. I know I don't."

She moved off to the bedroom to retrieve her bag from the closet, then made sure to lock it back up after she retrieved ten of the eleven envelopes and the copy she'd set aside for the police. One copy would remain with her, for leverage, and the last envelope she would mail to Aunt Qiu-yue as she'd planned.

"Here." She returned to him in the living room and handed over the stack of envelopes.

"These are all the copies you made?"

"Yes."

The gaze he fixed on her now was suspicious.

"What, you don't believe me?"

He rifled through the envelopes, taking note of the newspapers that they were addressed to. "Well, it seems you covered all of the newspapers in the area."

"Fei-pu did. I'm not so clever."

"Of course you are. Anyway, I don't think Fei-pu had the right idea. He was as untrusting as you are apparently."

He set the ten envelopes aside and turned to the unpacked copy that she'd originally designated for the police.

"They're keeping a second set of books," he murmured thoughtfully as he perused the cover letter. "But there's no proof here of anything else. The police are trying to build a much larger case against that company. Still, at least this is a start. Mulan, you have to give these to the police."

"I'll give them the papers. And then I'm leaving town."

"You can't!" he exclaimed.

"Why not?"

"They'll need you to testify when the case goes to court."

"No way." She spoke slowly, emphasizing both words. "I am _not_ testifying in court. I'm as good as dead if I do."

"They're going to follow you anyway."

"Or you will. You do seem to know a lot about this. About what the police are doing."

"Mulan, I finally found you again. I don't want you to leave."

She blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. Her strength and resolve was dissolving quickly at the tone of his voice and the concerned, loving expression in his eyes.

He reached out and took her hands in his, lifting each one and kissing them in turn. "I have to go. But I'll be home at around six. We'll talk more about it then, alright?"

"Alright," she answered dejectedly.

"Please. Promise me you won't do anything with those papers before then, alright? Please?"

"I promise. I'll leave it on the desk in your office."

**oooOooo**

Mulan honored Shang's request and left the envelopes on his desk in the study. In the mean time, she pondered an alternative plan in the event that she found herself in even worse trouble. Fei-pu's idea was the right one, she was sure of that; he didn't trust merely sending it to the police either. She only wished that he'd been able to mail the papers out before he died. Then she wouldn't be the one involved in this.

But there was nothing to be done about that now. Right now she needed to be prepared with another plan, as her aunt had trained her for all of these years. She would need a completely new identity once more. Unfortunately she wouldn't pass as a blonde or red-head, so changing her hair color, even wearing a wig, wasn't an option. It would just appear fake. Somehow, though, she sensed that she ought to change her appearance.

She moved to the bedroom and gazed at herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door, studying her own features and figure, wondering how she might be able to morph her appearance somehow. Opening the closet door, she retrieved her bag and unzipped it, rummaging for her Oakland A's cap and placing it on her head.

It wouldn't be enough to camouflage her from the people who were watching her so carefully, she decided as she experimented with pulling the bill down over her face. They would recognize her figure and build, her clothing, her bag. Frowning at herself in the mirror, she attempted to figure out what else she could change. She removed the cap and reached up to fiddle with her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and replacing the hat. Then she reached back and grasped the ponytail, tucking it up into her cap. It still looked like her, but from faraway perhaps she would appear more boyish.

"What if I change my gender?" she mused out loud suddenly. "They wouldn't pay any attention to a boy if they were looking for me."

The idea was crazy and she prayed that it wouldn't come to that, but it was something to consider if she was _in extremis_.

Mulan stuffed the hat back into her bag and locked it, then tossed it into the closet. Then she grabbed her jacket and left the house with just her money and passport. Officer Lee's car was gone, much to her relief, but she assumed that someone who worked with him had taken over the surveillance.

Shang wasn't home yet when she returned with two shopping bags, but as she reached the bedroom with them she heard the front door open.

"Mulan?"

"Just a minute!" she called out, frantically unpacking the shopping bags. She'd bought a new pair of boys' jeans, tee-shirts and a sweatshirt, along with a new duffle bag and a large bandage that she planned to wrap around her torso. Everything that would make her appear boyish. Quickly stuffing it all into her old bag, she shut the closet door and hurried to greet him as he crossed the threshold of the bedroom door.

"Hi." She gulped, attempting to catch her breath.

He embraced her and kissed her tenderly.

"Did you go out?"

"For a little while. I got home a few minutes before you."

"What about the papers?"

Her body stiffened against his and her expression tightened defensively. "They're still on the desk in your office. I promised you I wouldn't do anything with them before you came home. I keep my promises."

"I…I didn't mean to imply that you…I'm sorry. You just seem frazzled. Is everything alright? Did anything happen while you were out?"

"No. I'm fine."

There was deep concern in his eyes as he stared at her for a long time before finally speaking. "I don't know what you're up to, Mulan," he sighed resignedly. "But…you're defensive, you're jittery. I guess you still don't completely trust me. And I don't know how else to convince you that I'm on your side, no matter what."

Later that night, as they lay together in bed and gazed at one another, Mulan intimated with a breaking heart that she would not be staying with him.

"Shang," she began tentatively. "I'm glad that we met again and I do want to be with you, more than anything. If I do go away…it will be because I have to, not because I don't want to be with you. Please believe that."

"Mulan. I wish I could make you see, really see, that running will just make things worse."

"It will only be if I have to. But I'll give the papers to your friend tomorrow."

Without another word he pulled her against him and kissed her long and deep before letting his hands rove over her body, caressing and arousing her. They both knew that she _would_ have to leave and this was their way of saying goodbye. Tomorrow, very likely, she would leave San Francisco, no longer Chen Mulan or Magnolia Lee, but as Michael Lee.


End file.
